


Bubble and Squeak

by SumiSprite



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Bubble Bath, But he loves his Soundbabe and puts up with it, Cute, Fluffy, M/M, Megatron wants the duck to die, My First Work in This Fandom, Soundwave is adorable, Soundwave lves rubber duckies, Warning: for Megatron being a softy, bathtime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 19:05:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7400011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumiSprite/pseuds/SumiSprite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soundwave has an odd fascination with human made items that make noise or music. One particular item he enjoys is one Megatron wants to kill.<br/>Based off of this anonymous request I put in on a Tumblr blog!<br/>http://uglynicc.tumblr.com/post/146743455484/for-the-request-thing-maybe-some-fluffy-or</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bubble and Squeak

**Author's Note:**

> This is literally my first TF fanfic - at least my first posted one. I loved the designs of TFP, and Soundwave is my all-time favorite Transformer of any fandom, particularly TFP. So...please be nice? QwQ Thank you! I hope uglynicc likes it!
> 
>  **Now edited!** Oh my god, there were so many misspells in this story I almost cried...! 
> 
> ~S~

As the leader of the Decepticons, it was expected of everyone – including himself – to appear as indomitable and ferocious as was his due. To his enemies, his own soldiers, even the majority of his officers, Megatron was wordlessly expected to act on his given title of ‘Tyrant’. And most days, he did – it wasn’t hard. He was generally a nasty, mean, and terrifying mech, no question about it. 

But despite this, he could quietly and meekly admit that he wasn’t a total tyrant. As much as he enjoyed being a vicious hardaft to his crew, there were numerous occasions where he could sit back, relax, and actually be a decent mech that enjoyed the simpler things in life. Not too many would think he would be capable of enjoying small luxuries, but there was an absolute one exception to this. This one exception also knew that, behind that shark-like snarl and deadly armor was a rather soft-spoken mech with a _very_ secret soft side. 

Said exception would also keep silent on the fact that Megatron’s lap and broad chest made a _very_ comfortable seat

Despite his great size, the water and solvent barely shifted as Megatron moved his legs slightly. A deep intake expanded his chestplates and upper abdominals, jostling his smaller mate just slightly from his half-recharge state. 

Soundwave hummed lowly, tiny, delicate fingers absently scratching at the seams of Megatron’s arm, of which was resting heavily yet comfortably against his belly. He purred and nestled back into his mate’s wide chest, helm tilting back to rest against the curved, silvery metal. 

Bathing was, in these wartimes, more of an optional necessity. These days it was considered a quick way of getting dirt and other organic-matter off of their bodies, usually in the communal, or the officers’ private washracks. Megatron himself had blatantly stated what a waste of time traditional bathing was, especially when an attack or emergency can happen at any time.

But even the Lord of the Decepticons wasn’t immune to a bit of ‘cheating’. Especially when Soundwave would came back from a mission aching and silently pleading for Megatron to join him. Perhaps even use those powerful servos to massage out the kinks in his back and shoulders, or use those sharp claws to preen and gently scratch out earth-matter from his armor. And if all went well, Megatron could expect to have a bit of ‘playtime’ in their bath, leaving Soundwave a purring and sleepy mess in his arms. 

The tyrant felt a grin pull at his lips, his arm unconsciously tightening around Soundwave’s waist. An error he was too late to catch.

_Squeak!_

Megatron resisted groaning, instead resolving to shut his optics and trying to focus on other things.

_Squeak, squeak!_

_‘Primus…’_ he thought with a barely withheld sigh of exasperation. 

There were very few cons to having a nice, relaxing bath with his mate. Outside of accidentally slipping, or taking a bit of soap to the optic or glossa, there was that one _other_ thing Soundwave _insisted_ on having. 

_Squeak, squeak!_

It was an earth custom, he had said. It’s a tradition, he had said. A bath is not complete without one, he said. _Scrap, slag, and pit_ , Megatron wanted to say. 

Opening one optic, Megatron looked down over the round hill of his chest, and over the brittle crests of Soundwave’s helm. He glared at the obnoxiously yellow, rubbery earth toy. Said toy, held in the spindly hands of his mate, was continuously squeezed and studied in a strange sort of sparkling-like fascination. 

Soundwave was, almost as a rule, a bit strange. Everyone had found him eerie, creepy, giving him degrading and otherwise cringe-worthy nicknames throughout the centuries. Megatron though found his little quirks charming and cute. His fascination with foreign objects that made sounds were a particular quirk of his that Megatron found adorable, and he often indulged in his mate’s hobbies and habits. Oh sure, he could live with and even agree to the vast collection of human music boxes he often brought home – even he had to share in Soundwave’s fascination of how mere humans could create something so musically inclined with nothing but wood and a few pieces of metal, and no form of power or fuel. The collection of musical instruments were also interesting, though they stayed more silent, as even Soundwave’s tiny fingers couldn’t do much with them without risking damage. Among the other sound-producing items were various music media devices, bells, wind-chimes, rattles, toys for various ages, and a strange rock that Soundwave claimed made a humming sound. Megatron had yet to hear the rock hum. 

But it was that one _Primus damned thing…!_

_Squeak, squeak!_

Out of either irritation or as a method of keeping his temper from exploding, Megatron tightened his arm around Soundwave’s waist. He mentally scolded himself soon after.

_Squeak, squeak! Squeak, squeak!_

No, this was fine, it was completely _fine._ It’s just a stupid, rubber toy made by the primitive earthens to keep their even more primitive spawn entertained and complacent when bathing. It was _fine_

_Squeak, squeak! Squeak, squeak SQUEEEAAAK~_

Soundwave likes it. It makes him _happy_ , just because Megatron would never understand it did not mean he had to blow up and demand his mate get rid of it. No matter how many relaxing times it had ruined for him, it made Soundwave happy, and that’s all that mattered…! 

_Squeak, squeak, squeak, squeak squEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK!_

_‘Oh Primus give me strength or kill that duck…!’_ Megatron thought, fangs sinking into his lower lip, and his free servo clenching into a fist on the tub’s edge. He briefly imagined that rubber duck being crushed in his fist, gasping its last squeak, its weak rubbery body finally giving out under his mighty-

_SQUEAK **SQUEA-** pop!_

Megatron’s optics snapped open, and his helm snapped forward to look down at his mate and the odd sound. He blinked dumbly, taking in the toy in Soundwave’s hands. 

Soundwave was also staring at it, his visor giving no hint to his emotions. But Megatron could feel the stunned shock in his field. The little tear in the rubber duck’s bottom, just along the hole where its Unicorn-given squeaker used to be, crept up half its side. The missing squeaker was now lost in the sea of bubbles of their bath. 

The thrice cursed duck was dead, and Megatron almost managed to let his elation show in his field. 

What stopped him though was the sudden darkening of Soundwave’s field, the dejected slump of his shoulders, and the low, sighing whine of his damage vocalizer. He dropped the now mute duck into the water, slumping back against his mate’s chassis. Megatron would swear to hearing a tiny sniffle coming from his now grief-stricken mate. 

The tyrant was baffled, taken aback by the sudden depression his mate exhumed from the loss of something so annoying. Out of sheer instinct, he tried to raise Soundwave’s mood.

“Come now Soundwave, don’t be like that.” He said, his claws stroking along the spy master’s arm. Soundwave did not react or give any sign of a response. 

Megatron bit his lip, uncertain. He was not the most comforting of mechs, he knew he was extremely clumsy when it came to exercising compassion towards others – even his own mate. Soundwave understood this completely and did not fault Megatron for any slips or blunders; his mate was trying, and that’s all that mattered.

The tyrant scrambled, leaning forward a bit to envelope the more petite mech in his arms. A weakness of Soundwave’s, he always seemed to melt when Megatron would hug him, cocooning him in his larger body like a protective blanket. He did not melt though, or even attempt to cuddle back like he usually would. He only sighed, staring at the water dejectedly, a finger popping a lone bubble. He did not seem to notice the sharp dentae playfully nibbling at his usually sensitive neck. 

Megatron almost sighed, releasing Soundwave’s neck and loosening his hold. The water was cooling, the bubbles had long since receded, and his mate was depressed. It didn’t look like they were going to get to relax anymore. 

This time he did sigh, but he did not press his mate for anything. Instead he reached under the water, pulled the plug to drain the water, and slipped his arms under Soundwave’s legs and upper back. Without effort, he lifted his mate into his arms, trying not to give too much worry at how limp and lifeless his mate seemed. Rising, he walked back into their shared room, joined to his private washracks, and set Soundwave on their berth. He dried Soundwave off with a couple towels, but did not care to give himself the same pat-down, and instead crawled in beside Soundwave. 

He squeezed his mate once, nuzzling against the back of his neck. But Soundwave did not react, didn’t purr like he usually did, didn’t turn to nuzzle and press his crest to Megatron’s cheeks like an overly affectionate cat. He only sighed and laid there, dejected and sad, as if someone had run over one of his symbionts. Sadly his only symbiont, Laserbeak, was out on surveillance and would not be back until tomorrow. 

Megatron resisted scowling, cursing that duck to the Pit and back. He cursed it for being so damn annoying, he cursed it for ‘dying’ so suddenly, and he cursed himself for wishing it was dead at that perfect moment. 

He didn’t know what to say, but he had an idea of what he had to do. Megatron was a straightforward mech, and often found solutions to complicated matters because of his simplified thinking and blunt problem solving. This didn’t mean he had to like what he had to do.

He silently groaned. Soundwave was upset. Megatron _did not_ like it when his mate was upset. Even more so, he had a very inconvenient, very powerful urge to right whatever was wrong with Soundwave. 

_‘Unicron damn it…’_ he thought, shuttering his optics.

Once Soundwave fell into recharge, Megatron would leave as quietly as he could (which considering his not-so-quiet nature was a feat), and leave the Nemesis for his own personal mission…

****

**

~s~s~S~s~s~

**

****

Soundwave tapped at his terminal keyboard swiftly and almost without any form of personal touch. Soundwave was known for being efficient, even drone-like in his work. But even now, everyone on the bridge would admit that there was an extra sort of… _lifelessness_ to the spy master. 

Megatron had not shown up for his own shift yet, eye-witnesses claiming he had left the Nemesis sometime in the very early morning. Logs recorded he was on some sort of mission, but what exactly it was, no one could say. Even Starscream was a bit baffled, and for now, too suspicious to make a claim to the tyrant’s throne. And even with Soundwave’s rather dark mood, Starscream was still certain that if he ever touched his aft to Megatron’s throne, the mute spy would Defenestrate him out of the Nemesis. That was not something anyone would look forward to, flier or not. 

But it seems all musings of every spark on the bridge was cut short. The main entryway to the bridge opened, and admitted the formerly AWOL Decepticon leader. The drones and Starscream stood at attention, though Soundwave seemed utterly engrossed in his work. The drones and Starscream though took note of their leader’s appearance. 

He looked quite haggard, if not very cranky and tired. There were faint streaks of bright colors on his frame, mostly his claws and pedes. There appeared to be a prominent splatter of yellow paint right on his forehelm, and if one looked close enough, they could see a strange puff of what appeared to be stuffing and a swath of torn pink fabric in his knee joint. There was a very distinct, very familiar irritation to his field. 

Starscream immediately had a plethora of biting and sarcastic remarks, but even he had to take a note of tact from the rather dark look Megatron was giving the room at large. So instead he decided to play it a bit safe, get the gist of the situation, and _then_ break his mighty leader’s bolts. 

“Ah…Lord Megatron, sir…” he started a bit uncertainly. “May I inquire as to where you have been? We have all been _so_ worried about yo-”

Megatron swept right past Starscream, without even giving the seeker a glance or even a hint of acknowledging his existence. Starscream felt his plating bristle, and his wings hike up wrathfully. The very nerve…! 

Megatron approached Soundwave, whom still seemed oblivious to his presence. Megatron flared his field, not in a violent or bristling manner, but more as a silent method of clearing one’s throat loudly. 

Soundwave jumped slightly, head swerving around to look at his mate. He cocked his head in inquiry. 

[???] his visor displayed questioningly, but Megatron only shook his head.

“Come with me to my quarters.” He said simply.

Soundwave made to inquire further, but he didn’t get a chance. Apparently Megatron was in his determined sort of mood, and without an ounce of care to who saw, swept Soundwave up into his arms and strode for the door. Megatron ignored the gaping stares, but Soundwave could feel his hidden faceplates heating up in embarrassment. 

They arrived at their quarters much quicker than Soundwave expected, the doors automatically opening for Megatron, and closing behind them with a click of the lock. It was only when Megatron was starting to make his way to the washracks did Soundwave react.

[Soundwave: not in the mood.] Soundwave’s artificial voice somehow carried a hint of irritation. But Megatron shook his head.

“I am not expecting anything of you, Soundwave. I merely wish to show you something.” He said. 

Nudging the door open with his foot, Megatron strode into the washrack, and set his mate down in front of the tub. Behind his visor, Soundwave blinked, taking in the bath.

It was already filled and steaming, bubbles already added and forming a foamy hill over the water. A couple clean rags and scented solvents sat on the tub’s edge, including a soft bristle brush they often used to get dirt out from under tight plating – and on occasion, in other places. 

But what caught Soundwave’s attention, and prompted a static-laced gasp from him, was the obnoxiously yellow, Cybertronian-sized rubber duck staring up at him from the tub’s ledge. 

It looked like someone – Megatron – had tried to paint its eyes red. There were two pointy pieces of metal haphazardly glued to its head in an amateur imitation of horns, and on its chest was a messily painted Decepticon insignia. 

It looked so ridiculous and so un-intimidating, but Soundwave found himself loving it so much. He turned to look at Megatron, who was standing with arms crossed and scowling sulkily at the ground. 

“It took me most of last night and this morning to find one of such a size,” he muttered self-consciously, “I finally found one in some human mall in Asia I believe. The primitive spawn of the humans did not take kindly to my attempting to take the slagging thing…”

A claw unconscious scratched at the paint-spatter on his forehelm – courtesy of some brat with a rather impressive aim with a paintball gun. 

Soundwave said nothing, only stared at his mate. Megatron was growing uncertain, shifting from foot to foot. Did he not like it? Was it not like the other, smaller duck? Maybe he was displeased with his lackluster paintjob. Primus, if had gone through all of that for nothing-!

Megatron was taken quite by surprised when he was presented with an armful of lanky spy master. A click was heard, but Megatron did not have time to marvel at his mate lifting his visor, as he was too caught up in having his intakes sucked out by the eager mech. Internally, Megatorn grinned dumbly and returned the kiss just as eagerly, servos slipping automatically under Soundwave’s aft to support himas slender legs came up to wrap around his waist. Once ended, Soundwave pulled back and had his visor click back into place, hiding his dopey grin and blush. 

[Soundwave: thanks you. Soundwave: loves Megatron’s gift.] he droned. A smiley face appeared on his visor, and Megatron laughed.

“You are welcome.” He said, before he nodded to the bath. “Now, I do not know about you, but I am not letting that bath go to waste. I am tired, I’ve been through a youngling battlefield, and I am very certain there are human spawn toys lodged in my armor.” 

Soundwave trembled in a silent laugh.

[Soundwave: may assist?] he inquired. Megatron smirked.

“If you insist.” He purred. 

Not long into their preening, Soundwave seemed to return back to his usual self, nestled comfortably in Megatron’s lap, a heavy arm on his abdomen, and a powerful, purring engine humming against the back of his head. Megatron inhaled and released a calming intake, head tilted back, optics shut, and claws gently caressing Soundwave’s abdomen. It was such a peaceful moment, submerged in their bubble of privacy, warm and content…

_Squeak, squeak!_

Internally, Megatron sighed, but ultimately let his exasperation go.

Soundwave was happy and content again. And judging by the warmth of his chassis and the mild squirming in his lap, he would be getting his own reward very soon…

End.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Whoops, my mistake. It's not a kind of cheese, but an English dish. Sorry, I got that mixed up with something I saw on Chopped. XD
> 
> ~S~


End file.
